


In the Shelter of Your Arms

by iriscale



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: College AU (without the college), Dogs, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-03 10:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iriscale/pseuds/iriscale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean's a punk with court demanded community service hours, and Marco's a responsible pre-vet student. Who knew these two boys would grow so close under the roof of an animal shelter?<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. let's slow down and relax

**Author's Note:**

> Edited: 11/29/14

At that moment Marco was taking the most energetic dog the shelter’s ever seen for her walk.

He wound the leash more tightly around his hand. As he lead the enthusiastic husky mix out the door of the shelter, she leapt around, pulling at the leash, thrilled about the otherwise mundane walk in the way that only dogs can be. While Marco was still a little sleepy, the dog’s more insistent tugging demanded his divided attention. She barked at everything: runners, cars, suspicious looking trashcans. She stuck her nose into everything: drainage pipes, dark alleys and boutiques (which did not take kindly to their new furry customer and her profusely apologetic human leash gripper).

Marco normally had a way with the animals at the shelter but this particular mutt was even beyond his evenhanded control.

"Smoky, come on, please, let’s just walk. No drama, alright?" Marco pleaded unheard to the rather large and forceful animal. It’s all he could do to keep hold on the leash.

As they both turned around back toward the animal shelter again, her tugging grew even more insistent on the leash. Marco dug his heels into the concrete, but he couldn't stop her from dragging him around the corner of the brick apartment complex at the end of the street. He was forced to release the leash so he didn’t fly into the wall, avoiding the possibility of breaking every bone in his arm.

A cry of surprise echoed against the brick accompanied by the happy woof of a dog who had found a new friend. Marco scrambled to his feet, holding his breath. He followed the leash around the corner.

The husky had pinned someone to the ground and was eagerly examining their face with her tongue. The stranger seemed relatively unharmed, though they struggled a little to get the dog off them, though more successfully than Marco.

“I’m so sorry!” Marco apologized, seizing the dog by the collar. The teen scooted backward as Marco wrestled the wayward pup off him. The husky stopped barking, murmuring a faint complaint instead.

“Are you alright?” Marco spluttered, and the teen wiped at his face, grimacing.

“I’m fine,” he said, getting to his feet.

“She didn’t scratch you or anything? She’s too enthusiastic,” Marco sighed, letting out the breath he was still holding in. He offered his free hand to the teen, who gratefully accepted.

_He looks like a punk_ , Marco thought (though not in a bad way, really, he also supposed). The teen had honey colored eyes and a trendy undercut style haircut. Multiple piercings in his ears and his brow displayed the shiny glint of steel. He didn't seem to be very emotive from Marco’s first perspective either.

The teen stared at Marco. He panicked for a moment, wondering if the other was pissed off, but then the teen shook his head and the look faded.

"Jean," he said, offering his hand. Marco swapped hands holding the dog collar and shook the teen’s hand.

"I’m Marco, and this—" he let go of the teen’s hand and pat the dog instead"—is Smoky."

Marco thought he saw the corner of Jean’s mouth twitch a little bit.

"Nice to meet you, Marco, Smoky. Even if it wasn’t exactly ideal meeting circumstances. She’s a beautiful dog," he commented, nodding at her.

Marco’s eyes widened and he shook his head, gesturing enthusiastically with his free hand.

"Oh, no, she’s not my dog. I volunteer at the shelter and I’m just walking her, albeit not very well," he explained, wrapping the leash tight in his fist again.

“Oh, my bad,” Jean said, reaching for his face like he’s going to cover it, but whipping the hand away as if he had just noticed it slinking toward his head. “So, uh, you going back there now?” he asked, staring at Smoky instead of Marco.

"Yeah. I think I can’t handle walking her any more today," Marco admitted, internally shaking his head at the sneaky mutt.

"Do you think I could go with you?" Jean asked.

Marco furrowed his brow.

"Sure, I guess, but why do you ask?" he said.

Jean looked flustered for a moment.

"Oh, uh, I need volunteer hours for a thing," he offered vaguely.

Marco mouthed a sound of understanding and nodded.

"Cool," he said, gripping the leash with the other hand. Smoky barked.

Jean was very quiet as they walk to the shelter. There was awkwardness in the silence; to be honest, Marco was a bit intimidated by the boy walking next to him even though he had a good three or four inches on him. He keeps his eyes to the ground, or rather, on the dog he’s afraid is going to dodge into traffic.

Still, it’s not in his nature to keep a long, unfriendly silence.

"Is that ‘John’ with an h or like, ‘Jon’, as in Jonathan? I even knew a guy who spelled his ‘Johnathan’ with an h, so I always like to know," Marco asked.

Jean raised his eyebrows (Marco noticed a glint of metal as he glanced up from the dog).

"Dude, you know, no one ever asks. It’s neither, or I guess, none of those," he replies, letting a note of pleased surprise ease into his voice. "It’s ‘Jean’, you know, like the French spelling."

"Oh, J-E-A-N? Like Jean-Jacques Rousseau or Jean-Paul Sartre, right?"

"Just like Sartre," Jean said, laughing a little. "Without the attached name and the obsession with the human condition, more or less."

As they walked Jean opened up to Marco, reaching over occasionally to pat Smoky when she’d weave in front of him.

As they reach the shelter, Smoky began to realise that her time in the wild was up and she strained against her leash again.

"Oh, hold on. We’re here but someone doesn’t want to cooperate," Marco sighed, failing to rein her in.

"Is she a kind of dog who can be picked up?" Jean asked, placing a hand on her back.

"Well, yeah but—" Marco started, but was cut short by Jean wrapping his arms around the dog’s torso and heaving her up into his arms.

"She’s heavy; could you get the door…?" he asked, the strain of her weight evident in his voice.

"Shoot, yeah, no problem," Marco hurried, grabbing the door and ushering him in, slamming the door shut behind him.

"It’s safe to let her down here."

"Oh, thank god," Jean huffed, letting the pup down. There she raced around his ankles, barking at the both of them and the receptionist.

"Smoky causing trouble again, Marco?" the receptionist, a petite blonde girl, asked.

"Yeah, Krista, you can definitely say that."

She rested her cheek against her hand and tapped her desk with her pen.

"She won’t even listen to me. Poor baby. She’s had a rough time," she sighed.

"How’d she end up here?" Jean asked, startling Krista.

"Rescued from a house with a dozen dogs. She was cooped up in a tiny room and didn’t get any exercise or training. The squad rescued her a month or so ago. She’s too wild for anyone to adopt so far," she replied. She quips an eyebrow questioning his presence.

"Oh! I’m Jean," he said quickly. She shook the offered hand.

"Krista Lens," she replied. "Nice to meet you. How do you know Marco? I’ve learned to not assume things by now," she said matter-of-factly.

"Smoky mowed him down." Marco answered for him.

"Yeah, I was going to see if I could volunteer here. I need hours for a thing and I didn’t even think to volunteer here but I like being around animals," he said hurriedly. "Once I met Smoky here I thought it’d be the perfect opportunity."

"It does look like Smoky likes you quite a bit," Krista giggled as the dog in question leapt onto his stomach, eagerly trying to reach his face as Jean steadied himself against the office desk.

"Easy, pup," he coaxed. She hopped down, satisfied with the good scratching he gave her ears.

"Why don’t you help Marco get her to her kennel while I get you an application?" Krista said, smiling gently.

"No problem," they both said. Marco laughed at their synchronization, though Jean's vaguely uncomfortable glance cut him short.

"Um, sorry. This way," he said quickly.

"Right."

Marco lead him through a door labeled "Adoption Center" and into another simply labeled "Dogs." Smoky didn't put up much of a fight to stay in the lobby, but Marco coaxed her gently through each door, with Jean double teaming her behind.

"She's in the kennel on the end with an old black dog," Marco huffed as she plopped herself on the floor in the front of the room, warranting a couple of barks from the nearby kennels.

"Can you go unlock it? I'm going to pick her up again," Jean asked. With a nod of confirmation from Marco, he rolled his shoulders in preparation and worked his fingers under her belly, scooping her up again.

She squirmed a little in his arms, making his job more difficult as she twisted her head toward his face, managing to lick his ear.

"You're gross, you know that? I got a few human friends who'd fit right in with you," Jean muttered to her as he hauled her to the kennel. Stepping inside, Marco closed the gate behind him and Jean set her on the floor of the kennel. She immediately scooted over to the older dog and buried her snout in its fur.

"You're just a little pup, aren't you?"

"She is pretty young. Hope she gets adopted by someone with lots of patience," Marco commented from behind.

Jean pushed himself to his feet and Marco opened the gate cautiously to let him out.

"Always wanted a husky and that sounds like what my parents always told me. Or at least that they require their owners to be responsible," Jean mused as they walked back.

"Did they not think you were responsible enough?" Marco asked, tilting his head.

"I guess not. Never got one. I would've liked to show that I was responsible enough for one though."

Marco made a thoughtful noise.

"Got the form, Krista?" he asked, resting his hands in his pockets.

"Right here and ready to be filled out. Pens are right there, Jean."

"Is it alright if I take it home with me and just bring it back tomorrow? I left my driver's license at home and I don't know the number," Jean asked, glancing at the sheet.

“I don't see any harm in it," Krista agreed. "Take your time."

"Thanks."

"It'll be cool having another regular volunteer here," Marco grinned. "Mostly it's just little kids who just want to pet the kittens. Or grown women who just want to pet the kittens," he added in a falsely disapproving tone. Jean laughs.

"I'm not here to pet kittens, but I don't blame them," Jean replied.

Marco smiled even wider, eyes crinkling above his raised freckled cheeks.

“I hope you don't think it's weird for me to say, but I think you and I will be friends," Marco said, digging his hands deeper into his pockets.

Jean examined Marco, taking in his bright eyes and welcoming aura.

"I don't think that's weird at all," he replied. "I'll see you tomorrow."

 


	2. actual fairytale princess marco bodt

Jean contemplated silently as he walked home.

He couldn't believe it.

He wasn't sure if the court demanded community service hours were a bane or some sort of blessing in disguise. Getting run over by that massive dog was definitely not fun, but man... the guy on the other end of the leash was, well, not someone Jean minded meeting.

Working at the animal shelter was something Jean hadn't even thought of doing. He vaguely could remember it was something that counted, but he always imagined mandatory service hours were working on picking trash off the side of the road.

He then reminded himself that there are people kindhearted enough to do things like that out of the goodness of their hearts, but he couldn't ever imagine himself choosing to do something like that. It just didn't make that much of a difference in his eyes.

He did like working with animals though, so at least, getting the service hours wouldn't be so bad.

Jean wasn't too excited about the massive fines the court’s forcing him to hand over, though.

Fucking Yeager and his crew dragging him down in their fights with the “Titans;” Jean didn't give a fuck about gangs or their petty fights, but Mikasa’s pretty cute and maybe Yeager might be too... fuck, they’re all pretty cute, Armin too, so it’s not like he minds hanging out with them, but then Sasha and Connie whipped out spray paint and Jean’s the one who got caught redhanded with the cans. As per usual, he got dealt the consequences, and he beat himself up about his taste in crushes.

Now this Marco guy... He’s a different brand of cute than Yeager and his crew.

Jean wouldn't even consider hitting on him, of course. He doesn't hit on people or ask them out (minus that one disasterous time with Mikasa and Yeager at the same fucking time; his timing is the absolute _worst_ ). He would be content to just be friends with him even if he developed a crush on him.

  
  


The next morning he brought the form, filled out with the name of the court and all the rest of his information. He slid it over the desk to Krista, who looked it over with a critical eye.

"You're here because of a crime?" she asked. Jean listened carefully for a tone of judgment in her sweet voice, but she only sounded curious.

"A misdemeanor. Vandalism," he muttered and she sighed, relief suddenly obvious.

He ducked his head back.

"What'd you guess it was?" he asked, feeling hurt a little that she thought he had done something awful.

"You never know in this area," she replied, paperclipping the paper to another and filing it away neatly.

"Even my girlfriend--" she started again, and stopped herself, shaking her head.

"You really never know," she finished. Jean nodded once, slowly.

"Right..." he said, slightly hesitantly.

"Well, if you'll wait a couple of minutes Marco should be here soon and I trust him to do basic training with you. Just sit over there."

"Alright," Jean said, taking one of the lobby seats again. This time he noticed a window into the shelter he had missed the first time. It held a older but dignified cat with long feathery fur. A small tag above declared her name to be Duchess. She groomed her neck fur meticulously, though the fur around her tail was knotted and slightly unkempt.

Noticing Jean she merely gave him a disdainful glance and resumed cleaning her coat.

"She's an affectionate cat once you get to know her."

Jean recognized the gentle voice to be Marco's from yesterday and he turned to acknowledge him.

"Good morning to you too," Jean joked and Marco laughed awkwardly.

"Sorry. I don't handle basic human interaction too easily in the morning."

"It's cool, Marco. Guess you're good with handling animal-human interaction in the morning then?" Jean asked.

Marco nodded. "It's why I do my volunteering in the morning. Also because it's a good time to walk the dogs," he said seriously.

"Right on."

  
  


The next day when Jean started working with Marco, he wondered if he was right about him. He could feel the beginnings of a crush blooming in his gut.

Marco is just too fucking adorable.

He seemed a bit nervous around Jean at first, nearly wincing if Jean got too close to him or touches him by mistake, though the teen can understand his apprehension. He’s not exactly the friendliest of guys, nor does he present himself that way. He was surprised when Marco warmed up to him surprisingly quickly anyway. He eagerly introduced him to all of the shelter dogs and asked him about family pets without prodding too deeply.

With Marco’s readily offered assistance, it’s easy for Jean to get into the groove of working at the shelter, and overall, it’s a lot more painless than he was expecting.

He finds himself eagerly awaiting his volunteer time, even. Just being in the shelter relaxes him, if not for just being in the presence as one as calming and even headed as Marco Bodt. The rest of the staff, including Krista and the shelter veterinarian, Nanaba, along with her assistant Zachary, are approchable and friendly to Jean even when they're aware of his reason for volunteering. In the back of his mind, he's reminded that his time at the shelter is relatively short and he settles for making that time the best he can, if not for making his own presence more bearable.

He dreads the day he won't have an excuse to spend time with Marco.

At first, Marco seems like a literal fairytale princess to Jean.

All the animals are susceptible to his charms. The dogs all adore him and are eagerly obedient to him (with a few exceptions like Smoky) and the cats are drawn to him and relaxed in his presence.

Even Sophie, the grouchiest and meanest cat Jean’s ever met, will rub against Marco’s leg when he goes to pet the cats. Marco always giggles at Jean’s attempts to befriend the cats, whom he doesn’t really know how to approach.

Marco shows him how to wiggle his fingers at them so they can hesitantly sniff him, and Jean’s proud that after a few weeks, most of the cats will let him pet them, and some of the friendlier ones will even plop themselves down in his lap if he sits on the floor in their room.

He has far better luck with the dogs. Jean usually ends up volunteering himself to walk the more energetic ones, and Marco usually concedes readily, as he has a little more trouble being strict with them.

He really does have fun with them, but really, the reason he enjoys working with the animals is because Marco’s working with him.

He learns that Marco is currently working toward a pre-veterinarian’s degree at the state university nearby, and he lives with his mom who is also a vet and runs a nearby clinic.

He’s Jean’s age too, and he also works out that they have several mutual friends, especially after one particular day when the incorrigible Sasha and Connie come crashing through the shelter doors, chatting amicably at Krista before Marco came out and gently reminded them that _they were going to work up the dogs_ and _could they_ please _lower their voices_.

They both looked crestfallen until they noticed Jean standing there, and they excitedly tackled him, badgering him about working there.

“Hey, Jean! Never thought I'd see you here? Helping out for the greater good?” Connie asks cheekily.

“Yeah, Jean, why’re you here? Thought you’d be hanging out with Yeager’s crew!” Sasha grinned, hanging off his arm. "You still embarrassed about the other day?"

“Hey, that's none of your fuckin' business, Sasha. And calm down, you heard Marco. You’ll freak the dogs out. What the hell are you two doing here anyway?” Jean scolded, shaking them off.

“We’re visiting this angel right here!” Connie said, grabbing Marco’s arm, and poking at his side. Sasha shifts her bright grin in Marco's direction.

“Yeah? You’re friends with these hooligans, freckles?” Jean asked the teen.

Marco shrugged helplessly.

“We went to the same high school,” he said.

“Yeah, we did!” Sasha said. “Marco is a good kid, always helped us out when we got in trouble,” she declared, nodding at him enthusiastically.

“I’m sure he did,” Jean said, scratching at his neck.

“How do you know Sasha and Connie, Jean?” Marco asked curiously, unphased by their wild behavior. If anyone could get used to them, it was probably him.

“Know might be a stretch... but we’re all kind of in the same friend group.”

“Jean likes Mikasa and Eren,” Connie confided loudly to Marco.

“O-oh, you know Mikasa too?” he says hesitantly.

Jean just wanted to punch Connie. Let me speak for myself, you brat.

“Used to. I _used_ to like them,” he clarified, flushing bright red. Marco still looks strange, though the unfamiliar look fades fairly quickly.

“Wanna go with us to eat? Marco promised he’d take us later!” Sasha enthused, grabbing Jean’s arm and shaking it excitedly.

He glared at her grouchily, but Marco seemed to be pretty excited about the suggestion, so he conceded.

“Fine, but because Marco’s going. You two are too much,” he said, grinding his teeth.

The three whooped and Marco grabbed Jean’s hand as the other two ran to the lobby to brag to Krista about hanging out with Marco.

The freckled teen pulled him to the dog room.

“Let’s hurry and take care of everyone so we can get going,” he said, still holding Jean’s hand.

Jean just blushed until Marco makes a noise of awareness and dropped his clutched hand, seemingly shocked to find it there.

“S-sorry,” he said and Jean waved his hand.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Marco nodded and began sending the dogs to their kennels, petting their heads as he made sure they all had plenty of water and their proper medicine for some of the older ones.

Jean did the same, patting Smoky’s neck as she did what she’s told for once. She licked his fingers happily.

He looked over at Marco, who was smiling gently at an older dog, scratching behind her ear and looking at her fondly.

He noticed that Marco even has freckles on the tips of his ears. Cute.

“What are you looking at, Jean?”

He startled as Marco looked at him curiously.

“Oh, uh, nothing, freckles.”

Marco chuckled. “Freckles... I like that,” he said, fidgeting with the long sleeves of his sweater so they covered the back of his hands. “It sounds nice.”

Jean grins widely despite himself. How could one boy be so fucking adorable? Honestly, he doesn't know what he wants to do with himself (maybe reach over and ruffle Marco's bangs, or put his fingers on the other boy's square jaw), but he shakes those thoughts off, dismissing them as intrusive. Not the time nor the place, Kirschtein.

“That’s all of them, right?” he said.

“Yeah, let’s go catch up with the troublemakers, huh?” Marco said cheerfully.

 


	3. Mirrored thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco has a few things to say. He doesn't know how similar the thoughts racing through his head are to the ones in Jean's mind.

Ok, so Marco knows by now that Jean is actually a bit of a criminal. He thought when he first met him that he looked a bit like a punk, and in a way, he was right.

He didn’t, in any case, expect Jean to be as vulnerable or thoughtful as he turned out to be.

He seems actively interested in Marco and listens to him blab on and on about his family and his dreams of being a veterinarian. He didn’t talk too much about himself, but Marco learned that he really didn’t have too many friends (which Marco chalked up to his appearance and demeanor rather than anything else), and he didn’t get along very well with his parents who lived in a large city outside their college town. He went to the community college here and hoped to transfer to the university where Marco went. Jean always seems surprised every time he tells Marco something personal like that, always saying things like “I don’t normally tell people this kind of stuff,” before falling silent.

Honestly, Jean is a bit weird, but Marco doesn't really mind it.

Marco catches himself glancing at the golden eyed teen too; he is pretty good looking, actually, even with his piercings. Because of Jean,Marco finds himself desiring physical intimacy with someone else for the first time. He imagines himself touching the honey blonde hair crowning Jean’s head, and he thought it was probably very soft, and fantasies of touching his hair slipped into daydreams of kissing him and threading his fingers through it and rubbing his fingers against his undercut and doing other shadier things before scolding himself heavily for thinking of his new friend that way. In a way, his thoughts scare him.

But even after berating himself he can't deny that he finds Jean very attractive.

Marco finds himself leaning against Jean when they take care of the animals and when Jean isn't looking, Marco might sneak a peek at his ass, but it isn't ever on purpose, he swears to himself halfheartedly.

The day when Sasha and Connie crashed through the shelter Marco discovers that they do, in fact, already have mutual friends.

“How do you know Sasha and Connie?” he asks Jean curiously.

He scratchs at his neck abashedly.

“Know might be a stretch, but we’re all kind of in the same friend group,” he says, gesturing ruefully, like he can't believe it himself.

Marco thinks that wasn’t quite fair, but then again, he does have a pretty high tolerance for their shenanigans.

Connie leans toward Marco, cupping his mouth and glancing sneakily at Jean.

With a smirk he says, “Jean likes Mikasa and Eren.”

The statement throws Marco for a loop and he's a little too embarrassed to ask them to clarify. From the violently pink blush spreading across Jean's face, he can guess that Connie doesn't just mean as friends. His heart races a bit.

Still, his lip twitches in a teasing smile.

“O-oh, you know them too?” he says, trying to hide any hesitation in his tone.

“Used to!” Jean barks and flushes slightly. “I used to like them.”

Okay, then… but still, Marco’s kind of disappointed.

Well, what was I expecting anyway? he scolds himself.

The loud pair coerce Jean into going to eat with them, and Marco's heart jumps when Jean agreed to go “because Marco is.”

He and the other two shout their approval, and Marco seizes Jean’s hand in his excitement.

He’s going to get to hang out with Jean outside of volunteer hours!

Marco grips Jean’s hand tighter and drags him to the dog room.

“Let’s hurry and take care of everyone so we can get going,” Marco says, unaware that he’s still holding Jean’s hand tightly.

He looks at Jean who’s gone silent. The blush in his cheeks is back, and Marco squeaks as he realizes what he’s doing, almost throwing Jean’s hand away from his in his embarrassment, stuttering out an apology.

Jean doesn’t seem too phased, for which Marco thanks his lucky stars.

He busies himself taking care of the dogs and getting them ready for the night, trying to forget about Jean right behind him doing the same, talking to the dogs.

He scratches at the ear of an older dog named Sara whom they rescued a few months ago. She nuzzles his open hand and Marco realizes that Jean has gone silent. He turns to face him and his cheeks warm a little as he notices that Jean’s staring at him curiously.

“What are you looking at, Jean?” he asks. Did he do something odd?

Jean seems taken aback and looks down.

“Nothing, freckles,” he mutters, and Marco giggles a little.

“Freckles?” he asks, and Jean’s blush is more apparent. “That’s nice,” he reassures him, and Jean looks back up at him and grins, all big white teeth that seem a bit big for his mouth.

“That’s all of them, right?” he asks Marco, and Marco smiles back at him.

“Yeah, let’s go catch up with the troublemakers, huh?” Marco says cheerfully.

He locks up the door behind him, peeking in the other animal rooms to make sure they’re all secure and ready for the night, and nods to Jean, who heads to the front of the shelter to fetch their scarves and coats.

As Marco locks the last room, he turns to find Jean right beside him. He’s already got his army surplus jacket on, supplemented by the ugliest plaid scarf Marco’s ever seen.

“Nice scarf,” he smiles, and Jean bats at his arm. “’T’s not so bad,” he mumbles, and hands Marco his trenchcoat and sensibly colored brown scarf.

“Thanks,” he says, sliding it on and tossing the scarf around his neck.

“See ya later, Krista!” Jean says as they walk out, Marco nodding at her. Jean opens the door for him, and he mumbles a thanks and scoots out the door.

Hopeless, Krista thinks.

 


	4. And everyone knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also titled: "Marco is extremely obvious"  
> Sasha and Connie might not understand what's going on between themselves, but they have a pretty good idea of what's going on between Marco and Jean.

Connie and Sasha are already perched on Marco’s car when they walk outside. The car beeps as Marco remotely unlocks it, and Sasha and Connie hurriedly pile in the backseat of the small, grey car.

Jean breathes a sigh of relief that they left him the passenger seat and buckles himself in.  

From the backseat Sasha declares the restaurant has the best grilled cheese sandwiches she’s ever eaten, and Connie heartily agrees, upholding their hummus as food of the gods. As always, the pair is irrationally loud the entire way to the restaurant. They pester Jean, bugging him about how he’s not been around lately, and he mutters that he’s been busy keeping his grades up and working “unlike two other people I know.”

(Neither are particularly hurt by the accusation.)

Jean turns the tables on them.

“You two finally dating?” he asks, cocking a pierced eyebrow in the general direction of the backseat.

“What?” Connie exclaims, and the blood drains from Sasha’s face.

“Of course not, right, Connie?” Sasha says quickly, and Connie nods at her.

Jean turns to Marco and they exchange a knowing look.

_Yeah, right._

“A-a-ah, here we are!” Sasha says, pointing to the restaurant on the left.

Marco carefully pulls into the half full lot. He’s hardly parked before Sasha’s out of the car, yanking open the door to the eating establishment. The eating area is a single room, slightly cramped but well lit. Green booths line the walls, and Sasha hurries to an open one in the corner of the room.

She slides into the booth and grins at the boys following behind her.

“You guys are going to love it!” she says, clapping her hands excitedly.

Connie scoots in besides her and Jean eyes his pocket ruefully.

“I hope I can afford it,” he mutters, and slides in beside Marco.

“It’s not too bad,” Marco says, patting his shoulder. He manages a half smile back, but really, it’s more of a grimace. (Though to be fair, most of the time Jean’s smiles are really scowls.)

Sasha eagerly orders herself a soda and a mozzarella and basil grilled sandwich with an extra side of chips. Both Connie and Jean order waters, the former ordering a meatball monstrosity of a sandwich and the later opting for a simple BLT sub. After a little bit of hesitation, Marco just gets soup and salad with a hot tea, which he proceeded to dump about five packets of sugar in, to Jean’s chagrin.

“Marco… are you sure about that? That’s a… lot… of sugar,” he asks hesitantly.

Marco smirks at him and opens a sixth packet of sugar, and Jean watches him pour it in, slackjawed.

“How do you think I got so sweet?” he asks cheekily, and Jean groans, the other two giggling at the terrible joke.

“Why am I friends with you nerds?” he mourns, covering his face with his hands, but Marco can see the faint smile peeking out behind them.

He nudges him.

“Maybe because you’re a total dork yourself?” he teases, and Jean snorts, his smile this time genuine.

Seeing Jean happy fills Marco up until he can feel happiness radiating out of him, the kind of happiness that makes you want to shout and dance about it, the kind of feeling that makes you blush and squirm and cover your face but also makes you want to climb a mountain and yell from the summit.

They all take their time eating, exchanging stories about their mutual acquaintances. Marco learns about the incident in which Jean was punished with community service hours and Sasha and Connie’s role in it. Jean isn’t surprised to find out that Marco and Armin are good friends. It makes sense with their calm and collected demeanors. Marco asks him if he knows a guy by the name of Bertholdt, whom he and Armin are also good friends with, and Jean has trouble remembering where he knows the name, but finally recalls the tall brunet.

“Isn’t he the guy who’s always with Reiner… Brown?”

Marco looks at him sideways.

“Brawn?”

“Yeah, that one.”

They were supposedly part of the “Titans,” the gang Eren loathed, so Jean thought it was kind of odd for one of them to be good friends with Yeager’s childhood buddy.

“Bertl’s a good guy, Jean, and so is Reiner,” Marco says, shaking his head after Jean asks him about his supposed gang activity. “I mean, I guess if Reiner were involved, Bertl would probably follow… Well, not probably, he would.” Marco points at the pair across from them. “Reiner and Bertl are more inseparable than those two.”

“Wow, no kidding,” Jean says, surprised.

They finish their meals and Connie waves the waiter over.

“Do you need four separate checks?” he asks, well aware that they’re all college kids.

Marco pipes up.

“I’m covering his.”

Jean glances back at him.

“Dude, you don’t have to do that,” he hisses.

Marco shakes his head.

“I dragged you here, least I can do is pay for you,” he says reasonably.

The waiter shrugs. It makes no difference to him.

As he walks off with the separate payments, Jean’s left blushing in embarrassment.

“I’m going to pay for your food next time, ok?” he says.

Marco nods and smiles at him.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he promises cheekily.

Connie laughs.

“Get a room!” he snickers, and they both turn to him, both half forgetting they weren’t the only two at the table.

“God, Connie, shut up!” Jean protests, flicking a rolled up straw wrapper at his face.

The two pelt various pieces of paper at each other to Sasha’s amusement and Marco’s distress.

The waiter, noticing their messiness, hurries over with their check hoping it will expedite their removal from the building.

Luckily, Marco catches the hint and directs the group to his car.

“Let’s see… Who lives the closest?” Marco asks them once they’re all in the car.

“Probably Jean,” Sasha says. Marco looks at her in his rearview window. She shrugs.

“We’ve gone there to play a few pranks before.” (Insert a huff from Jean here.)

Jean dictates to Marco directions to his apartment, which is actually not too far from the animal shelter. Marco guesses that’s why Jean chose the shelter to volunteer at in the first place.

“Well, I’ll see you at the shelter tomorrow afternoon,” Marco says.

“See you later, Jean!” “Smell ya later!”

“If anyone’s going to be smelling anyone, it’s going to be you we smell, Sasha,” Jean says pointedly at the backseat.

"That was one time!"

“See you all later,” he laughs, closing the door behind him.

Marco watches him walk safely to his door before pulling out of the lot, steering toward Connie and Sasha’s dormitory.

“So, Marco…” Connie starts from the backseat.

He glances in the rearview mirror. Both Sasha and Connie are watching him eagerly. Oh, no. That’s not a good sort of look.

“What’s up?”

“What do you think of Jean?”

Marco stares out into the road.

“He’s a good guy. I like hanging out with him,” he says hesitantly.

They’re both still eagerly staring at him.

“What do you two want?”

“Is that it?” Connie asks.

Marco frowns. “He’s a better influence than you two.”

Sasha nods. “That’s fair.”

Connie gasps in mock horror, and they both laugh at him.

“We’re here,” Marco announces ( _thank god_ ), and they step out of the car.

“Thanks for taking us out for dinner, Marc!” Connie yells over his shoulder, trotting inside.

Sasha pats Marco on the shoulder and winks at him.

“You can tell us how you really feel later,” she says, and Marco does his best not to pout.

“Thanks for taking us out,” she adds, hugging him gently before running inside.

In the cold air, the moisture on Marco’s breath condenses into foggy puffs. He readjusts the scarf around his neck.

He’d like to know how he really feels too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more puppies and cat handling in the next chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> I actually have a huge weak spot for Sasha/Connie. (it's so cute really)
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)


	5. Rash decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean isn't a people person, or really a cat person. But if it'll make Marco like him more, he sure as hell will try to be one.

Jean’s made a rather rash decision.

Not unusual for him, of course, but the nature of this decision is quite different from that of previous ones made.

He has decided to do the impossible: befriend Sophie, the cat who is probably possessed by a lower level demon.

Now, normally he wouldn’t bother, but Jean’s got it in his head that _no cat’s gonna dislike me unless I make it that way_.

He’s also convinced that maybe if he befriends her Marco would be impressed.

And impressing Marco… Well, whatever he can do, right?

He starts by taking on feeding her himself.

After a week, she lets him touch her for a second but whips her head away from him if he tries any further.

“It’s ok, Jean,” Marco says the day after their trip to the restaurant, placing his hand on Jean’s shoulder reassuringly.

Jean sighs, and Marco scrunches his nose, eyes narrowed in thought.

“Oh! I know what will cheer you up!” Marco says suddenly.

Jean raises his eyebrow. “And that would be?”

His eyes seem to sparkle as Marco tugs on his sweater, pulling him to the dog room.

“Puppies!” he says, peering over a once empty enclosure that now holds a small group of patch coated puppies of indeterminate breed (probably mutts).

He’s absolutely beaming, and Jean can’t help feeling exhilarated as well.

“Can we… play with them?” he asks hesitantly.

Marco nods enthusiastically.

They spend the next hour wrestling with the dogs, and one with a dark brown patch over its right eye and matching right sock takes a liking to Jean and falls asleep in his lap.

Krista pops her head in the room, followed by a small family.

“Can you help this family find a dog?” Krista says. Her tone is sweet as always but the look in her eyes says _god help me you two are ridiculous this is a respectable establishment we’re running here._

Marco hurries to greet the family, a mother and her two children. One looks like he’s probably in middle school, and the other child is still in elementary school by the looks of it.

Marco goes straight for the younger kid.

“So you’re here to pick out a dog, right? That’s a big responsibility,” he says very seriously.

The girl nods.

“I promised mom that I would feed her everyday and take her for walks,” she replies, just as seriously.

Marco smiles charmingly at her.

“Is that right? What about your big brother here? You willing to help out too, bud?” Marco asks.

The middle schooler huffs.

“I don’t want a dog. I want a lizard,” he mutters, pulling his scarf up.

Marco shrugs.

“We’ve got some pretty great dogs here. Why don’t you consider it at least?” he asks gently.

The boy is still quiet, but his mother smiles at Marco.

“I would like us to get a dog that’s already housetrained, if that’s possible,” she says, patting her daughter’s head.

“No problem, miss!” Marco declares. “We’ve got tons of wonderful dogs here. I’m sure there’ll be one here that is meant to be part of your family.”

Jean’s still in the dog enclosure with the puppies, most of which have fallen asleep on and around him.

The mother and the daughter follow Marco toward the back of the room where he exalts the various good traits of this dog or another.

“What are you doing in there?” the middle schooler (who had strayed behind) says grumpily, staring at Jean.

Jean stares back.

“What’s it look like?” he asks.

“You look like a bad guy,” the kid says, and the teen flushes in embarrassment.

“Why would you say something rude like that?” Jean gasps. He points to the puppies.

“Would a bad guy be covered in puppies?” he asks. A good question. Or at least, the kid thinks so, and seems to consider it seriously.

“Maybe not,” he concedes.

“Care to join me in the puppy pile? You might change your mind about wanting a dog,” Jean offers.

“Tempting,” the kid says sardonically.

He follows his mom back.

“Suit yourself,” Jean says, stroking the head of the dog in his lap.

In its sleep, the puppy nuzzles his leg, and another sneezes.

Fucking adorable.

On the other side of the room, the mother is entranced by an older dog. Her daughter, on the other hand, upon hearing about the puppies on the other side of the room (which she was too short to see over the enclosure they were in) tugs on her mother’s sleeve, begging to get one of the puppies.

“Let me at least look at them, mom! It won’t hurt,” she says. Her mother huffs, giving Marco a look that said  _why did I even come here._ He chuckles sheepishly and guides them back to where Jean is.

“Look who decided to come back,” he says pointedly at the preteen, who rolls his eyes.

Marco lets the younger sibling into the enclosure, warning her to be gentle with the dogs. She nods her understanding and tiptoes, wide-eyed, to Jean.

He smiles at her, placing a finger to his lips.

“Aren’t they cute?” he asks quietly. She nods, her jaw dropped.

“Can I pet them?” she asks in awe.

Jean winks at her.

“You can even hold one if you’re careful,” he offers.

“Can I?” she shouts, and then gasps, covering her mouth as the puppy in Jean’s lap starts.

“Sorry,” she whispers, and sits on the floor in front of him, careful not to step on any stray paws or tails.

“Hold your hands out like this, and I’ll place her in your lap, okay?” Jean instructs, and places the puppy that was in his lap in her arms.

“So cute,” she says, wonderstruck.

“I know, right?” he says, and looks at her very seriously.

“Getting a puppy is a very big responsibility, even though they’re very cute,” he reminds her.

She sighs.

“I wish we could get one.”

Jean stands up gingerly.

“I know a dog you’ll love, and your mom will be happy with too,” he says, guiding her to put the puppy down.

“I think these guys should be introduced to Smoky, don’t you think, Marco?” he says.

Marco perks up.

“That’s perfect, Jean! I’m sure she would love them,” he smiles.

“A girl dog?” the young girl says excitedly, clapping her hands together.

“Yep,” Jean says, taking her hand and guiding her to the enclosure where the energetic dog who had knocked Jean down the day he had met Marco was napping in a slightly worst-for-wear dog bed.

“Probably should get her leash,” he says to Marco.

“Right, I’ll go get it,” he says happily, turning down the corner of the room. The woman and her son walk up behind them.

“She is a very energetic dog, but she’s also well trained,” Jean says.

“Smoky! There are some people here to meet you!” he calls, and the dog stretches, turning her long snout toward them, tongue lolling out in a dog-grin.

“She’s pretty,” the mother comments.

Jean unlatches the door and lets them in.

“Come here, girl,” he says, and the dog bounces up and sniffs her visitors enthusiastically. The younger kid scratches at Smoky’s chin and the dog licks her hands excitedly, butt shaking from the erratic thumping of her tail.

Unlike her encounter with Jean, she’s good enough now that she doesn't leap up on her visitors.

Both the mother and her daughter seem charmed by Smoky’s antics, and even the preteen reluctantly admits that “maybe getting a dog wouldn't be so bad.”

Marco watches Jean kindly talk to the kids from outside the enclosure, forgotten leash in his hand, and painful sort of joy comes over him. Seeing Jean vulnerable like this to other people is rare; he’s so terse when he’s not angry about something, and Marco wonders if maybe something’s changed in him the past month. He doesn't usually interact with the adopters this much, usually.

The mother promises to return the next day, and both Marco and Jean get the feeling a certain husky mix is going to find herself a home soon.

They thank the family for their time and walk them to the door and out into the hallway.

“Nice kids,” Jean says as they head out the door.

“The older one was a bit sour,” Marco disagrees.

Jean chuckled.

“He looked just like I did when I was in middle school,” he says. “Bad attitude and everything.”

“That does sounds pretty familiar,” Marco says, tapping his lip like he’s trying to recall something.

Jean shoves him but laughs.

“Haha, Jean’s a huge nerd, let’s all laugh at me,” he says, and Marco beams at him.

“Glad you know it,” he smirks and Jean yells, pulling him into a headlock.

Marco keeps laughing, only slightly struggling against his grip.

“Haha, let me go, Jean!” he says, using his unrestrained arm to dishevel Jean’s hair.

“Nope!” Jean roars, and grabs his wrist. Marco giggles, and tries to wriggle out of his grip, but Jean’s determined to turn this into a wrestling match he’s going to win.

He manages to get both Marco’s arms behind his back.

“Try to mess up my hair now,” he crows triumphantly. Marco smirks.

Before he knows it, Marco somehow twists out of his grip and knocks him to the ground, pinning both his arms down above his head with a single hand.

He grins.

“What was that, Jean?” he teases, tilting his head like he had misheard Jean.

Jean can’t even bring himself to be mad about getting outmatched.

“How did you manage to do that?” Jean breathes. Marco’s on top of him, _oh my fucking god, I’m being pinned down by Marco, how did he move so fast?_ He’s sitting right on top of Jean’s stomach and Jean prays to all that is holy that he doesn’t pop a boner.

“I’ve got a friend who’s really into professional fighting,” he says, not moving off of Jean. “She taught me a few things.”

“Oh,” Jean says, not able to say much else, as he’s mostly focused on how close Marco is to him. Is it just him or is he moving closer to Jean’s face?

“What are you doing?” Jean breathes, his heart racing in his chest.

Marco is silent.

 _C’mon, do it._ Jean chants mentally. _Do something._

Then Marco throws him off completely and runs his free hand through Jean’s hair, thoroughly tousling it.

Jean is so confused he isn’t even able to give a yell of protest before Marco hops off of him and grins at him.

“I’m full of surprises,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows ridiculously.

It’s all Jean can do to sit up and pat his hair back into place.

“Here,” Marco says, sympathetically offering his hand.

Jean takes it and gets to his feet.

That’s when Krista walks down the hall. She blushes, covering her cheeks.

“Oh, uh, I'm sorry,” she apologies quickly, turning back around.

Jean drops Marco’s hand and Marco walks toward her.

“Wait, Krista…” he mumbles.

By this point Jean is bright pink: feeling embarrassed, disappointed, (and slightly turned on).

“I-it’s getting late,” he finally manages, and Marco turns to him.

“If you want to head home, I’ll finish up here,” Marco offers quickly.

“Yeah… Yeah, that sounds good, thanks,” Jean mutters.

“See you later,” Marco says lamely.

“Bye,” Jean says over his shoulder, bundling his jacket and scarf on.

He sends Marco an unreadable look as he walks out the door.

Resisting the urge to slam his head against the nearest hard surface, Marco turns back into the dog room.

“Looks like I really messed that up,” he murmurs.


	6. Friends on whom you can depend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco might be a sweet guy, but romance is something he's not exactly familiar with. Luckily he has some friends who are more than experienced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by farseerscreed!

Pacing in his small apartment, Marco grinds his palm against the bridge of his nose.  
A hissing noise echoes from the kitchen. He carefully pours himself a mug of tea, carrying it to the well worn sofa across the room. He cradles it gently, the liquid still too warm to drink. Through the thin walls he can hear the distant thud of a stereo.

A small, mostly black furred cat startles him as she headbutts his leg. Grateful for the company, Marco scoops her up and she settles into his lap, kneading at his leg with half sheathed claws. With his free hand he scratches at her ears. Her loud insistent purring helps him calm down as he tries to sort through what happened with Jean that day.

He’s never been so flustered and confused about his own feelings before. Typically, he knows himself pretty well. Marco knows what he wants usually, but Jean throws things off as he usually does.

He is completely unaware (that Marco knows of, at least) that Marco likes him, but Marco isn’t even certain Jean’s aware of his own appeal in general.

  
He recalled a few days previously when a very pretty young woman visited the shelter. She completely ignored both Marco and Krista once she saw Jean. She draped herself all over him, and Marco didn’t know whether to be grateful or feel sorry for her when Jean was completely oblivious to her flirtatious remarks. He enthusiastically introduced her to the shelter cats, and before she knew it, she was out the door, adoption papers in one hand and a cage bearing a sweet ginger tom in the other.

“That girl was really pretty, don’t you think, Marco?” Jean remarked and frowned, adding, “She was a little bit touchy though…”  
He wasn’t very amused with Marco or Krista when they both burst out laughing.

Marco had patted him on the shoulder with an “Oh, Jean, haha,” and shook his head in mild disbelief.

When Marco thought about expressing his feelings toward Jean, then, he met almost immediately with despair. His few attempts at flirting with him had gone entirely unnoticed; Jean either chose to ignore them or was just horrible at reading romantic advances. He would have given it up and just figured that Jean was aromantic except that he had been told on good authority (Armin) the real reason that Jean stopped hanging out with Eren and his gang.

Apparently Jean had (miserably) failed to romance both Eren _and_ Mikasa in various points in time and really had trouble telling if they reciprocated his advances.

(They didn’t, but it took a good month for Eren to tell Jean that _no, we aren’t interested_. Armin blushed brightly at this point in the story and explained that that was the point at which they simultaneously asked _him_ out. Jean was embarrassed to tears. He claimed that he left their group because of gang related stuff, but they knew better.)

Knowing that, Marco desperately hopes that there might be something more in their exchanges other than some kind of intimate friendship.

He _knows_ he has feelings for Jean. He knows that if he were a weaker person, or perhaps a braver person, having Jean pinned underneath him yesterday would have ended differently. He thought he was going to kiss him. He almost kissed him. Just thinking about it makes his cheeks burn, though no visible blush gave away his embarrassment then or now. He was able to laugh it off, internally screaming at himself for being such a coward. That look Krista gave him as she saw him pulling Jean up from the ground didn’t help either. It was full of pity, though for whom exactly Marco wasn’t certain, though he supposes his cowardice is pitiable enough. He knows she meant no judgment by it, but he can’t help but feel like the universe is laughing at him.

 _You finally find someone that makes your stomach drop, and of course you’re too frightened to tell him and he’s too oblivious to notice_.

A warbling yowl interrupts his thought-induced motionlessness, cat bumping against his chest forcefully.

“Shh, Celty, I’m thinking,” he scolds her, nevertheless indulging her with a scratch on her rump.

She worms her way back into his lap.  
Marco sips at his now lukewarm tea and resolves to put Jean out of his mind for now, or at least any thoughts of romancing him.

His phone goes off in the other room.

Loath to move the already asleep Celty, Marco carefully puts down his tea and scoops her into his arms. She eyes him as he stands but opts to go back to sleep, ignoring that she’s been removed from Marco’s soft belly. She’s small enough to fit in the space between his chest and the crook of his elbow.

Marco reaches the phone right before the call goes to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Marco,” a baritone voice says.

“Hi, Bert! What’s up?” Marco asks cheerfully.

 There’s a large amount of static on Bertholdt’s end; Reiner’s excited voice carries and Marco can almost make out his words

“H-hold on— _Reiner, I’m on the phone. Please lower your voice…_ —sorry, game’s on,” he apologizes, and Marco mentally pictures him furrowing his brow in exasperation.

“That’s ok. What did you want to talk about?” Marco chuckles, settling back down into the couch.

“Annie won the kickboxing tournament,” Bertholdt says and Marco hears a faint _fuck yeah she did_ in the background.

“Ah, wow! Well, she is very skilled, so that’s not a surprise,” Marco replies, thinking of the time he had watched her fight a man taller and bulkier than both Bertholdt and Reiner and take him down in less than a minute. Part of him regrets that he requested she then teach him some of her skills, but understanding even a little of her technique was useful. At the time he thought it would simply be a safeguard against people touching him unannounced, but he fails to not think of pinning Jean to the ground at the shelter instead.

He shakes his head and listens to Bertholdt explain that Reiner insisted they throw a party to celebrate her victory.

“I thought you might want to come. Armin is coming, but I think he’s bringing Mikasa and Eren. Sasha and Connie already promised they’d bring food,” he muses.

“Sure! I’d love to come. Let’s hope that Sasha’s doing the cooking though,” he laughs.

Connie is notorious among their friends as the kind of person who couldn’t even boil water without setting it on fire.

“I’d better make sure that’s the case,” Bertholdt shudders. He pauses.

“Oh, Marco? If you want to bring people, that’s alright too, Reiner says. Just don’t bring lots of people,” he adds.

“There might be someone,” he laughs and then stops.

Perhaps Bertholdt can give him advice about Jean, or for that matter, Armin, who is in a relationship with two people, might be able to give him some solid advice. He also knows his friends are probably the least likely to tease him about Jean.

“Can I talk to you about something, Bert?” he asks.

“Is it private? Reiner— _is being really noisy_!” he calls out into the room.

“Actually I was thinking I would talk to you and Armin on video call about it,” Marco says.

He’s already in his room with the messaging program pulled up. Luckily, Armin is online and he sends him a quick message requesting a call.

“Surely there’s somewhere private in this house…” Bertholdt mutters from the other end, and his name pops up as online in Marco’s contact list.  
Armin and Marco are chatting quietly when his face joins theirs onscreen. Marco can see Bertholdt has taken refuge in the bathroom. He has a towel clinched in his fist.

Armin giggles at his exasperated face.

“Reiner is being incredibly annoying today,” he huffs, dabbing at his forehead. His friends look sympathetic.

“Eren was being a butt earlier too,” Armin offers.

“Anyway… Marco, what did you want to talk about?” Bertholdt asks.

“I kind of already told Armin about this, but you know how I work at the animal shelter?”

Bertholdt nods.

“Do you know who Jean Kirschtein is?” he manages, voice cracking.

“The name sounds familiar. Didn’t he run around with you and Eren?” Bertholdt asks Armin.

“Yeah, he did. Marco…” he starts, but lets the freckled boy continue.

“I—uh—I didn’t know who he was until he started working at the shelter too, about a month ago,” he says and in a rush he admits something he had hoped to explain better.

“He’s cute and I don’t know what to do,” he croaks, failing to repress the urge to bury his face in his hands in mortification. Bertholdt dabs at his face furiously, sweating in secondhand embarrassment.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Marco. I didn’t know it was like that,” Armin gasps.

“I thought you were aromantic, Marco,” Bertholdt says questioningly, fidgeting with the towel in his lap.

“I thought I was too,” Marco admits. “He’s really touchy-feely and I don’t mind it—and gosh!—I feel like he might like me too, but I’m no good at flirting and he’s really oblivious,” he groans, grinding his forehead against the computer desk.

“I guess that’s good that you’ve found someone whom you don’t mind, uh, touching you,” Bertholdt offers.

Both Armin and Bertholdt understand that Marco is very particular about physical touch with others and for him to allow someone to touch even his shoulder is a big deal. With his closest friends he doesn’t mind touch that he knows about, but being touched without his consent is a cause for extreme anxiety.

When he first met Sasha, he very nearly had a panic attack when she hugged him (though she apologized profusely after learning of his peculiarity about being touched).

Bertholdt isn’t particularly a kinesthetic kind of person either, and Armin is very sensitive about other people’s personal space: another reason why they’re Marco’s best friends.

“He’s pretty good at judging what’s ok, I guess,” Marco supposes.  
“But not so good at judging romantic attraction,” Armin says, confirming Marco’s unspoken concern.

“It might be that I feel comfortable touching him?” he wonders. He _does_ grab Jean’s arm far more than he would anyone else, and he feels like whenever something exciting happens, he wants to let Jean know. He feels extremely open with him body language wise, though he might not feel comfortable verbally expressing his feelings.

“Why exactly do you feel anxious about telling Jean how you feel?” Bertholdt presses, brow furrowed, towel gripped tightly.

“Knowing what it is you’re worried about is the first step in overcoming it,” Armin agrees.

“Jean is—Jean’s really unpredictable,” Marco sighs. “I have no idea how he will react. I mean, didn’t he stop talking to Eren and Mikasa when they both told him no?”

Armin frowns and tucks a stray hair behind his ear.

“Yeah, but he approached them. You don’t think he’d behave in the same way if it were the opposite way around? You’re a wonderful person, Marco,” Armin says placidly.

“Any guy’d be lucky to date you,” Bertholdt adds, blushing furiously.

Marco doesn’t reply other than a frustrated groan.

“I-I guess I’m comfortable with the way we are now,” he finally says.

“You are usually good at making decisions, Marco,” Bertholdt assures him, stealing a quick look at the screen.

“Just do what makes you comfortable. But you know, if he does like you back, relationships are a lot of work. Not that that doesn’t make them worth it,” he adds hurriedly, glancing at the bathroom door.

 _Bertholdt definitely does have his hands full_ , Marco muses.

“Marco, were you thinking about bringing him to the party?” Berthold asks.  
“We have your back, Marco!” Armin says excitedly. Marco’s not sure if he should be worried when the blonde punches the air.

At his concerned look, Armin grins and props his head up on his elbows.

“Are you scheming right now, Armin?” Marco asks.

“Whatever gave you that idea, Marco?” Armin replies sweetly.

“That’s definitely a scheming look,” Bertholdt remarks.

“Are you going to invite him to the party or not?” Armin insists, giving Marco a wide grin.

“I think so,” he says hesitantly. Armin nods, tapping his chin.

“Don’t worry, Marco, I’m just going to make sure no one—” (read: Eren) “—does anything too rash so you and Jean can spend a little time together.”

“I’m interested in meeting this guy,” Bertholdt admits quietly. “Someone you like is going to be a special guy.”

Marco feels his cheeks burn.

“You guys are so embarrassing,” he laughs. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Goodbye.”

“Text me if you need anything later.”

“I will,” Marco promises, exiting out of the app.

He feels good now that someone else besides Sasha (and probably Christa) knows about his crush on Jean, though he feels a mixture of apprehension and excitement about the upcoming party. Maybe by then he will have the courage to tell Jean how he feels about him.

 

Turns out Marco doesn’t even have the courage to tell Jean about the party until the day of the occasion.

“Ah, Jean!” he called toward the backroom where Jean was coaxing an older dog into her kennel.

The man turned his head towards Marco’s voice, striding out into the hallway.

“Yeah, Marco? What’s up, man?”

“Sorry this is on such short notice, but we haven’t hung out outside of work in a while, and—uh—do you remember me mentioning my friend Bertholdt?” he asks.

Jean furrows his brow, slightly confused, but he nods.

“There’s going to be a party at his house tonight, and Bert said I should bring people, so I thought maybe you’d like to come with me?” Marco asks. Jean blinks slowly.

“Ah, um, Armin is bringing people too, so you’ll know people there, I think. Eren’s going to be there though,” he warns.  
He mentally hits himself. _Oh no, why’d I bring up Eren?_

Thankfully Jean doesn’t seem to care.

“Eh, I don’t care about Yeager,” he says dismissively. “What about the terrible duo?”

“Sasha and Connie? I think so,” Marco says. Jean sets his jaw.

“I mean, I’m not doing anything tonight, so why not?” he says, shrugging.

Marco grins absurdly in response, and claps him on the shoulder.

“I’ve got to stop by my apartment and get a few things before we head over. Assuming I’m giving you a ride,” Marco adds, locking the cats’ door behind him.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind giving me a ride, sure,” Jean says, grabbing his jacket and following Marco out the door.

 

Marco’s apartment is much messier than Jean expected, though it’s certainly clean.

Almost immediately he finds a tiny cat who throws herself all over his legs, mewling loudly.

He reaches down and offers her his fingers. She sniffs him and in approval headbutts his hand. He sits on the floor and she curls up in his lap, completely absorbed in this interesting smelling stranger in her apartment.

“That’s Celty,” Marco says, his voice echoing from what Jean assumes is his room.

Jean scratches at her ear and she curls on her belly, playfully batting at his hand. He can feel her purring in his spine it’s so loud.

She has to be the cutest animal he’s ever met.

Jean is so entranced with petting her he doesn’t hear Marco walk back into the room.

“She really likes you, huh?” he says, and Jean jumps, and the startled cat flies from his lap, yowling at Marco for interrupting her petting time.

He has changed from the casual clothes he normally works in to a pair of dark jeans and a white shirt that complements his dark olive skin. He picks up a light grey coat from the couch.

“Sorry I took so long! The shirt I was going to wear wasn’t clean,” he apologizes, rubbing at his neck, and Jean gets up to his feet.

“Ah, no, it’s ok,” Jean says. Marco looks really good and Jean really wants to compliment him, tell him how damn good he looks.

“I feel really underdressed now,” he says instead.

“You look fine, Jean,” Marco disagrees. “You ready to go?” he asks, shouldering a package under his arm.

Jean nods and follows him out the door, but not before patting Celty gently on the head.

“I might have to take your cat, Marco. She’s too fucking adorable,” Jean warns.

Marco chuckles as they climb into his car.

“She really is a sweetheart,” he agrees.

 _So are you,_ Jean thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has hit over 1300 hits total since the last update!! Thanks, you guys! Please feel free to leave comments and let me know what you think so far.


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